


I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (I Just Want to Start a Flame in Your Heart)

by DancingForRain



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Gore, Humour, I blame Ash for all of this honestly, M/M, Merlin's special, Minor Character Death, More tags and characters to be added, Secrets, THEY'RE GONNA FALL SO IN LOVE, he's a bit of a rainman with guns, military Gwaine, the group adopts a stray, the stray being Merlin, yeah I know big surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingForRain/pseuds/DancingForRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd think with the end of the world, with humanity turning on each other and the undead walking the streets, there'd be nothing more that could surprise a man. Gwaine sure as hell thinks he's seen it all.</p><p>Or he does until he meets Merlin, the man with a mysterious past and startling blue eyes. Merlin surprises him in many ways; his humour, his stubbornness, the way he can spend two years living a horror movie and still hesitate to use a gun. Unfortunately for Gwaine and the rest of the crew, Merlin still has a couple of surprises in store.</p><p>(Majority of the ensemble cast feature prominently)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (I Just Want to Start a Flame in Your Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this until I had more of it written. But I have no self control and a certain someone was a bad influence, so here it is. I'll do my best to have the next part up as soon as possible. I would really love to know what you think.
> 
> While I'm here, that certain someone posted another story at the same time. Check out dementorsatemysoup's work. It's great stuff.

Secrets. Merlin knew all about secrets. Even before the Outbreak, before the world was turned on its head, Merlin had been no stranger to secrets. When he spilled Fanta on his mother’s carpet and blamed the cat. When Uncle Gaius let slip they were throwing him a surprise birthday party and he still acted shocked a week later. When he and Will became each other’s first kiss at the age of fourteen and grimaced and laughed and agreed to never try it again. There had always been secrets, little, inconsequential things. White lies. He never felt conflicted over them. They weren’t hurting anyone. Secrets just… weren’t a big deal.

That was before. Before the six o’clock news reported two dead and one missing from Dragon Chems’ labs. Before the first bite, the first scratch. Before zombies became a real life nightmare and everyone began to turn on each other.

Before the night he lost Will.

Merlin understands secrets a lot better now. He’s learned that some are bigger than others. Some secrets can mean life or death.

It was eight months and three days since the Outbreak the night that Will died. Eight months and two days since Merlin had watched his mother turn. Only two months after Gaius had disappeared.

It happened in an arcade of all places. A bloody arcade.

They had silently raided the nearest supermarket in a town they didn’t know the name of, where the shelves were surprisingly full and untouched by fellow survivors. It had put Merlin on edge – there wasn’t a single shop in the country that hadn’t at least been half emptied by desperate looters. But Will insisted they not look a gift horse in the mouth. So they walked away with their pockets and bags full for the first time in a long time. Will walked with a bounce in his step.

“Hope you’re hungry, Merls. We’re eating like post-apocalyptic kings tonight.”

Merlin didn’t bother pointing out that he was always hungry, that they both were. His eyes swept the street, the hairs on his neck raised. No shop was left unturned. There were stories of people already turning to hunting for food, because _no shop was left unturned._ Why was this one?

A shiver ran up his spine and he stopped. His gaze landed on the open arcade they were walking past.

“Reminds you of the old days, don’t it?” said Will, gazing at the dusty machines, dark and in disrepair. “Can’t believe how many hours we spent at one of these things.” He shook his head, and there was real longing in his voice when he said “Christ do I miss those days.”

That was when the first moan lit up the air. They both swiftly turned, straining to see up the street in the darkness. Merlin could just make out the slow, shuffling figure heading towards them. It was the first Biter they’d seen since reaching the new town. The whole place had been eerily empty – no Raiders, no gangs. No one.

Will pulled the T/C pistol out of his belt with a smirk. It had belonged to Will’s father, hanging in one of those ostentatious glass cases that Merlin had always felt was a bit ceremonial for a gun. But he’d never been a gun nut like them.

“Guess those hours in the arcade weren’t totally wasted,” Will murmured, aiming the gun steady. “I was a pro at _The House of the Dead_.”

“Will, wait,” Merlin said, putting his hand on his friend’s arm. The uneasy feeling was growing. One Biter wasn’t a big deal. They could handle that. But his stomach felt like led and his legs were tensed, ready to run. “Something’s wrong.”

Will shrugged him off. He’d been restless and irritable for days. They’d run out of rations over a day before reaching town. It had left Merlin lightheaded and shaky – he’d always been especially weak after skipping a meal – but not getting to eat had always just made Will pissed. “It’s one Biter, Merls,” he muttered, looking eagerly down the barrel. “We’ve had worse.”

The shot rang through the air.

The Biter dropped and Will whooped in delight. “Another one Bites the dust.”

“That stopped being funny one month in.”

“To you, maybe.”

“Will, shut up.”

“Oh come on mate, I know you’re fighting back a smile – “

“ _Will_ ,” Merlin hissed, grabbing his arm again. A faint sound whispered across the breeze towards them. They stood stock still, straining their ears as it gradually got closer. Louder. Clearer.

Moans. Moans and shuffling feet, tired limbs dragging across the asphalt. Dozens of them. Hundreds. All clashing together in a terrifying symphony, the crescendo building as they got closer and closer.

The first Biter stumbled out from a nearby alleyway and paused. It raised its head as if sniffing the air before slowly turning and training its milky eyes on the two men, stood frozen.

Suddenly the street was filling, spilling over with Biters, all tripping over and brushing against each other as they pushed themselves forward. Merlin and Will turned to run and froze on the first step to see more, dozens more. It was a horde, the kind you only hear legends about, brought out of the shadows by the crack of a gun and the smell of fresh meat.

Merlin stood frozen, all his limbs locked up. The sight of so many, the sounds, the smell. He was overwhelmed. He couldn’t move. His stomach roiled and his hands shook. This was it. This was the end. They weren’t going to survive. They’d never find Gaius. They wouldn't –

Will dragged Merlin to the side, kickstarting his feet, and they dashed into the arcade. They tripped over old wires and Merlin heard a distinct curse as Will kicked his foot against one of the machines.

As they weaved between the consoles Merlin gasped “is there a plan here, Will?”

“I’m hoping there’s a back door in here somewhere.”

_“Hoping?”_

“Alright, alright, keep your voice down,” Will grumbled, but Merlin could hear the fear underneath. Will had always been the brave one, the one that stood up to the bullies, that climbed the highest trees. At ages 4 and 6 when Merlin’s father left, Will had stayed solid and silent beside him for weeks. When Will’s mother died, he didn’t let anyone see him cry. Even after the Outbreak, Will prided himself on being brave. He never showed weakness, not even in front of Merlin.

But now, fear was leaking through the cracks. He knew as well as Merlin that they weren’t getting out of this. That was, until –

“Ah ha!” Will pointed triumphantly at an emergency exit, barely visible behind a vintage _Roadblasters_ machine. “Gotta have some faith once in a while, mate.” Merlin didn’t answer, just tugged his friend along, desperate to escape, to breath fresh air untainted by rotting flesh. Will, of course, didn’t take the hint to shut up. “Didn’t even have to pull out your own gun, I know you hate – “

There was a guttural growl, a shout of pain, and suddenly Will was on the ground, the yellowed teeth of a corpse sinking into his leg.

_“Will!”_

Merlin started forward as Will was dragged back and latched onto his hand. Will’s face scrunched up and he screamed. The Biter wasn’t letting go. It just sunk its teeth in deeper, ripping muscle and blood from Will’s calf. Merlin couldn’t tear his eyes away even as he gripped Will’s hand tighter.

Glass smashed as the horde reached the entrance, pushing and punching their way through the windows, too impatient to force themselves through the doorway. Merlin barely noticed, all of his attention on his friend, his brother.

“You have to go,” Will gritted out, his hand going slack in Merlin’s. Merlin shook his head and refused to let go. “Merlin, you have to go now!”

“No fucking way!”

“I’m done, Merls! I’m fucking dead already, and I swear to Mother fucking Mary – “ he was cut off with another scream of pain as the Biter went for a second mouthful and Merlin stormed forward, kicking its head back with every ounce of anger and fear he had. “-if you let your idiot self die because of me I will kill you myself!”

The horde was closer. They were twisting around the machines, crawling through the tight space. They’d be on them in seconds.

Will glared at Merlin, his eyes shining even in the darkness. “Get the fuck out of here, now, Merlin!”

For one split-second, for one short breath, Merlin squeezed tighter. Will squeezed back, his face set.

And then Merlin let go, he dashed for the exit, he swallowed down the scream of loss. In that moment, he knew he would never forgive himself.

And then all he could focus on was pain as he was tackled to the ground and his neck flared in agony. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard Will shout as he struggled against the Biter on top of him. He reached for the gun at his belt with one hand, putting all of his strength into pushing it off with his other. Its teeth were latched on to the lower side of his throat but before the creature could rip it open, Merlin got a grip on his Enfield revolver and aimed it up.

The shot to the Biter’s stomach didn’t stop it fighting but it was enough to force it off of him and he pushed himself to his feet, dead skin and decaying matter splattered across his shirt. With his free hand pushing against his bloody neck he dashed to the exit and slammed the door open. It opened on to a small side street of boarded up and abandoned houses, but he turned and ran. His body trembled and his head pounded, his neck throbbed and burned and he could feel his heart breaking in two as he left Will behind, but he didn’t stop running.

* * *

 

Gwaine walked with a skip to his step, enjoying the sound of gravel under his shoes and the smell of damp grass in the air. The sun was just beginning to rise and break through the trees of the forest road they trekked down and there was a distinct sense of peace that had become all too rare since the Outbreak almost two years ago. His pack was heavy with tinned food they’d manage to scrounge up from the small town behind them, and he knew Lancelot and Percy’s packs were just as full. It had been a satisfying haul and he knew with Arthur’s meticulous planning they’d be able to make it last for a good while. They had only encountered a handful of Biters, easily picked off between the three of them, and they had a leisurely walk ahead of them before they met up with the rest of the group.

These were the kinds of days you had to savour.

He turned to face his friends without breaking his stride. “Feeling good, lads?”

Percy grinned, barely out of breath the despite the extra load on his broad shoulders. “Definitely felt worse.”

Lancelot, subdued man that he was, offered a quiet smile. “Little too good, don’t you think? I hate to wonder how long this good luck streak of ours will last.”

“Then don’t, you bloody stick in the mud,” Gwaine replied with a roll of his eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” It had been a rough couple of months. They’d barely managed to stay in one place for more than a week at a time; there was always something catching up to them, whether it be Raiders or Biters or just a sad lack of resources. Add Morgana’s departure after her and Arthur’s big falling out to the mix and the general attitude had been a tense one as of late. Gwaine had been trying to keep spirits up but it was exhausting and not entirely successful.

Really, they could all do with a bit of sunshine. Gwaine was just struggling to find it.

The sound of shouting in the distance ended their conversation and as one, the three men turned their heads in the direction of the trees. Gwaine strained his ears. There were at least four people, possibly more, and they sounded angry. Gwaine raised his eyebrows at the others.

“Shall we go see what the problem is?”

It wasn’t much of a question; none of them were ever good at leaving a problem alone. Percy looked apprehensive, Lancelot determined, but the decision was made for them at the sound of a gunshot.

They took off running.

They slowed as the voices got louder and a small group of people came into view. Three women, four men, all dressed in mismatched brown, hair cropped crudely short. Raiders. And under the heel of one of the women, a shotgun staring him in the face, was a young man.

“You’re a stubborn one, I’ll give you that,” she snarled, and cocked the gun.

Lancelot took the first shot. The woman went down immediately and the other Raiders turned with cries of rage. Gwaine aimed for the closest man and managed to hit him square between the eyes, ducking behind a tree as another fired. Bullets whizzed past, one exploding the bark of the tree and sending a large splinter into Gwaine’s arm. He ignored it, his brain going into overdrive as he counted the shots. The Raider looked to be holding an M1911, which meant eight shots before he had to reload. So far he’d fired five. Gwaine leaned against the tree, taking deep breaths, waiting.

One flew by his right ear. Six.

There was an impact against the tree, probably somewhere opposite Gwaine’s head. Seven. The guy was a good shot, he’d give him that, but he needed to learn a little something about wasting ammo.

It was a shame he wouldn’t get the chance.

Other shots filled the air around him and the sound of a scuffle amongst the leaves – Percy had always preferred hand to hand combat – but Gwaine closed his eyes and waited.

A bullet went straight past Gwaine’s leg. Eight.

He whipped around and got off three shots, one of them hitting the man in the leg, the other in his stomach. His eyes widened as he fell, his hands already trembling as they fluttered over the wound. Gwaine ignored him to take in the rest of the situation.

One of the women was bleeding freely from her thigh but ducked Lancelot’s next shot and stumbled for cover. Lancelot cursed and quickly moved up. Percy had knocked out the other and was moving to help, but another man was in the way and shot close range. Even as Gwaine shouted in despair, Percy grunted and stepped forward, knocking him out with one well-placed blow to the head.

“Just grazed my shoulder,” Percy called, “I’m good, help Lance!”

Lancelot was pinned, pressed close to a dip in the ground. The remaining woman, seemingly unaffected by her leg wound, littered the space around him with bullets, but she couldn’t get the proper angle without moving closer. Gwaine rushed forward but she caught the movement and turned to him, baring her teeth. Her gun came up – AMD 65, he noted automatically, and he didn’t know whether to feel admiration or despair at that – he tried to brace himself, knowing he wouldn’t be able to dodge in time –

There was a fatal _crack_ and she crumpled, gun slipping out of her hand. Behind her stood the man previously under the Raider’s boot, holding a large rock that glistened crimson in the growing sunlight.

His face was pained as he dropped the rock and his eyes rose to meet theirs. “Thanks for the help.” His voice was low and rough, like he hadn’t talked in days.

Percy slowly sank to the ground and Lancelot pulled himself upright, immediately doubling back to where they’d dropped their packs. Gwaine moved over to Percy to inspect the wound, but kept one eye on the stranger the whole time.

He was a tall and lanky and guy. A mop of dark hair framed a pale face with high cheekbones and startlingly bright blue eyes. There was a fresh bruise blooming over his chin and he stood hunched over, one hand gripping his stomach. His clothes – there wasn’t a much nicer way of putting it, Gwaine thought with a grimace – were rags. Dirty and torn and almost falling off of him in places; the only thing that seemed intact was his blue scarf, wrapped tightly around his long neck. All in all, he looked grimy, unkempt, and far too young. Gwaine felt a surge of pity even as he pressed his hand against Percy’s bleeding shoulder.

Lancelot came back into view with the med kit, pulling out bandages as he crouched down beside them. “You alright, kid?” he asked, lifting up Percy’s sleeve to inspect the damage.

“Yeah,” he rasped, then shook his head and cleared his throat. When he tried again his voice was a bit smoother. “Yeah, thank you.”

There was a grunt of pain from Percy as Lancelot splashed a bit of vodka from the med kit stash over his wound and began to wrap it. Gwaine looked around, glancing the remains of a fire pit and ignoring the unmoving bodies as he took in their surroundings. He frowned. “Wasn’t there one more Raider?”

The stranger’s eyes widened and he spun around, rushing back towards his pitiful camp site. “Oh shite,” he muttered, “oh shit oh bloody shite, fuck!”

Gwaine quirked an eyebrow at the colourful vocabulary and stood up. “Something wrong?”

“My pack’s gone,” he replied, fisting his hair. “He must have run off with it, _fuck_.” He turned back to Gwaine and started, as if he’d forgotten he was actually talking to someone. His face morphed into a grimace. “Hope you lot weren’t planning on stealing from me too. I’ve got nothing left for you to have.” The joke was laced with wariness and it suddenly hit Gwaine just how alone this guy was.

He stepped forward to introduce himself but the other man quickly took a step back. Gwaine raised his hands slightly. “Relax, we’re nicer than them,” he jerked his head in the direction of one of the Raiders. “I’m Gwaine. The ones behind me are Percy and Lancelot.” He waited expectantly.

Finally, the man’s shoulders slumped, just slightly, and he murmured “Merlin.” Apparently Gwaine couldn’t quite keep the incredulity off his face, because he scoffed. “What, like your names are so normal?”

Gwaine grinned. “Fair point.” He looked back to where Merlin had been pacing. “Did you just have the one pack?”

At this, Merlin’s shoulders slumped all the way. He stared at the ground mournfully. “Yeah.”

Lancelot called Gwaine back over and he held up a finger. “One second, okay Merlin? Don’t move.”

Merlin looked vaguely suspicious at that, but Gwaine didn’t hear him bolt as soon as he turned his back so he took it as a good sign. He crouched back down next to the others.

“Percy’ll be fine, but I’d like us to get back to the others as soon as we can,” Lancelot said quietly, ignoring Percy’s grumbled _I told you_ , and Gwaine nodded. “What do we do about the kid?”

Gwaine hesitated, and Percy grinned despite his shoulder. “You wanna adopt the stray, don’t you?”

“I don’t exactly see him surviving much longer on his own,” Gwaine muttered, feeling weirdly defensive. “He’s got nothing left.”

“Arthur won’t like it,” pointed out Lancelot. Gwaine opened his mouth to argue but he held up a hand. “I’m not disagreeing. I know I won’t get any sleep if we leave him here. I’m just warning you.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes and made to stand, saying “I can handle Arthur,” but Lancelot grabbed his arm.

“Remember to actually ask the guy before you throw him over your shoulder. He might prefer being on his own.” Gwaine huffed and shook him off.

Merlin spoke before Gwaine had the chance to. “Is your friend okay?”

Gwaine grinned. “Who, Percy? He’s tougher than that, mate. Takes a lot to put him down.” Merlin looked genuinely relieved, and Gwaine softened his smile, hoping to make it reassuring. “What about you? You’re favouring your stomach pretty badly. We can take a look if you – “

“No,” Merlin said quickly, taking another step backwards. “No, I’m fine. Got kicked pretty good, but that’s all.” He smiled tiredly. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

Damn, but the kid was pitiful. Gwaine had an unnervingly strong urge to wrap him up in a soft blanket. He nodded, more to himself than anything. “Right. Well, we need to be heading off, so – “

Merlin was already nodding, hunching in on himself and backing away. “Yeah, yeah of course. Thanks again for the help, really, don’t know what I would have – anyway, yeah, I’d better start moving too – “

“Merlin,” Gwaine cut in, trying not to sound exasperated. “Merlin, slow down. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come with.”

Merlin swayed forward slightly as if his body was agreeing before his brain could catch up. But his face remained stoic and he shook his head gently.

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly. He didn’t meet Gwaine’s eyes, instead focusing on the fire pit to his right. “I appreciate the offer, but…” he shrugged, “I’m better on my own.”

There was a disbelieving sound behind Gwaine and he resisted copying it. “You sure about that?”

Defiance made Merlin stand taller. “Yes. I can look after myself. I’ll be alright.”

Gwaine studied him. He knew he should just let it go. So the guy wanted to be on his own. They’d met plenty of loners on their travels. Hell, Gwaine had started out as one until he’d run into Arthur’s crew. He’d been hesitant to tag along at first as well, certain it was easier only having to look after himself, to not have to worry about losing anyone else to the Biters.

But… it hadn’t taken long for him to change his mind. To be surrounded by allies, by friends, to be with people he knew he could trust… it felt nice. Really nice. Gwaine slept far better knowing he was with people who would watch his back. He felt safer. Happier.

And looking at Merlin, at his thin frame and defeated posture, Gwaine wanted him to be able to feel that way too. He needed a break, just like the rest of them.

“Okay,” he finally said, “how about this; just stick around for a few days. We can help you get resupplied, back on your feet, swap a few war stories, and when you feel ready you can leave.”

Merlin eyed him. The moment stretched out, long and heavy. “What do you want?”

Gwaine shook his head. “Nothing. There’s no catch. Just… It would just help us all sleep better, I guess.” Merlin still looked hesitant but Gwaine could see his resolve wavering. He felt like he was on the precipice of something big, like these next few minutes _mattered_ , in a way nothing else had in a long time. He didn’t know, exactly, why. He just knew, like he knew his own damn name, that he couldn’t let this man disappear. “Come on, Merls. Just for a few days.”

For a moment Merlin stood stock still and he stared at Gwaine – seemed to stare right through him. The hand over his stomach clenched. Finally, Merlin nodded. “Yeah,” and his voice held a kind of reverence, as if he’d just entered a church. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

The trek back to base with their new companion in tow began quietly. Merlin walked slightly apart from the others with tense shoulders and a set to his jaw. One hand continuously fidgeted with his scarf, pulling it higher against his neck compulsively. His eyes darted from the group to the road to the trees and back, and Gwaine would have bet the rifle on his back that the guy was having an internal battle about running off.

It was concerning, to say the least. Gwaine didn’t know if it was a sign that Merlin didn’t trust them, or that they shouldn’t trust him, but it had him – and, judging by the tense silence, Lance and Percy – on edge. Even he himself hadn’t been so flighty when he’d first run into Arthur’s crew.

“Where are we going?” Merlin finally asked.

“We’ve got a temporary base set up about 4 miles out,” explained Gwaine. “We drew the short straws to find supplies.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “There are more of you?”

“All friendly, don’t worry,” said Lancelot with a smile. “They’ll probably be excited to see a new face instead of the usual ugly mugs.”

“Except Arthur,” Percy muttered.

Lancelot winced and allowed “except maybe Arthur.”

Gwaine grinned even as Merlin began to look apprehensive. “That’s just because Arthur’s a grumpy old man. He’d probably be annoyed whether we brought home a stray or not.”

“I’m not a stray,” Merlin grumbled.

“’Course not, mate,” Gwaine said, but he only grinned wider. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“I’m not the one baring resemblance to a mangy mutt,” he said, gesturing to Gwaine’s hair, but there was mischief in his eyes and Gwaine counted it as a win. Besides, the man wasn’t wrong; it’d been a while since he’d been able to wash his hair. The others kept nagging him to just cut it off but he took pride in his stubbornness.

The walk was more pleasant after that. There still wasn’t much talk but Merlin seemed to have finally relaxed, if just a bit, and it seemed to be a cue for the other men to do so as well. Gwaine found himself trying unsuccessfully to stop stealing glances at their newest addition. His hand hadn’t drifted far from where it was protecting his stomach and there was a slight sheen to his brow but he didn’t once slow down or ask for a break. He contributed to the light conversation more and more as they walked; he seemed to be enjoying the human interaction, soaking up everything Lancelot and Percy said with a surprising eagerness.

“Of course I have a gun,” he was saying to Percy, as if offended by the larger man’s question. “You think I would have survived this long without one?”

“So where was it when those Raiders attacked?” Gwaine chimed in.

Merlin’s eyes flickered to him before focusing on the road ahead. “I hesitated,” he said, chagrined. “I’m not… it’s harder when your target’s still alive.”

A moment of silent understanding descended; Gwaine came from a military background but even he wasn’t one to celebrate the lives he’d taken since the Outbreak. By now most people were beyond letting their morality affect their decisions – constantly living on the line between life and death would do that to you. Apparently Merlin wasn’t at that point yet. Gwaine didn’t know whether it was admirable or naïve. He didn’t feel he was the best to judge.

Not wanting the mood to become morose, Gwaine side-eyed Merlin and winked. “So where’s it now?”

Merlin blinked at him but recovered quickly with a smile, even as Lancelot sighed in exasperation. “Nowhere you’ll find.”

That startled a laugh out of Gwaine. Oh, he liked the new guy.

* * *

It was sometime past midday when the crew came upon their camp. It was an old two-story farmhouse with holes in the walls and floorboards that creaked with every step, but it was the first time they’d had tangible shelter in too long and everyone had taken to it with enthusiasm. Gwaine let out a small puff of breath in relief. It had shaped up to be another sweltering day and his shoulders ached from the food on his back. Merlin had become pale the further they walked and begun to pant slightly, but had brushed off any concern.

“I’m just hungry. Didn’t get a chance to have breakfast. Always been a bit weak if I don’t get a chance to eat.”

Of course, he’d also brushed off any offers of muesli bars from their packs.

As they approached the house the front door was pushed open and out stepped Arthur, Leon as always on his heels. He didn’t look happy. Gwaine resisted scoffing. Nothing different there then.

“This is a bit of a sad welcome home party,” he said, stepping onto the veranda and laying a hand on Leon’s shoulder in greeting.

“The balloons are inside,” Arthur replied dryly, but his eyes were laser-focused on Merlin, standing awkwardly in front of the steps. “Why is there a stranger in our camp?”

Despite his hesitance Merlin glanced up at the house in front of him and raised an eyebrow. “Is camp really the right word?”

Arthur turned his glare on Gwaine who was doing an admirable job at keeping a straight face. Percy spoke up. “Gwaine adopted a stray.”

“Will you quit calling me that?”

The glare wasn’t going away. Gwaine rolled his eyes and gestured to Merlin. “Arthur, Leon, meet Merlin.” Merlin waved sheepishly. The tension was slowly seeping back into his shoulders. “Guy got attacked by Raiders, I figured we could help him out.”

“Because we have so many extra supplies to hand out.”

Gwaine waved reassuringly at Merlin, who was looking more and more like he was regretting agreeing to tag along, and pulled Arthur further aside. He lowered his voice. “Look, we got a good haul this time around. The man’s got nothing left. Look at him.”

Arthur’s hard eyes went from Gwaine to Merlin and back again. “Gwaine I swear to god if this is about you chasing the first new piece of ass you’ve seen in three months that isn’t trying to kill you – “

“Okay first of all, you need to have some more faith in me, mate,” Gwaine interrupted. He didn’t sound as indignant as he would have liked; there’d been a couple of incidents. One woman had managed to run off with their last working torch and a pack full of tinned food and bandages after spending a night in Gwaine’s tent. He still hadn’t lived that down. “I’m not looking to seduce him, I’m looking to feed him a hot meal.” They both watched as Leon stepped down from the veranda and introduced himself. Merlin rigidly pulled his hand away from his stomach to shake Leon’s proffered one, his other hand pulling again at the scarf around his neck. He looked exhausted and somewhat dazed. “Secondly, it’s not permanent. We just give him shelter for a couple of days, chuck a couple of spare baked beans in his pockets and send him on his way.” Gwaine heard Arthur sigh beside him and he knew he had him. Arthur hadn’t been a barrel of laughs as of late but he wasn’t cruel. Trying not to let the triumph show on his face, Gwaine added “he didn’t even get to have breakfast this morning, you know.”

Throwing his hands in the air melodramatically, Arthur gave in. “Fine, fine! Just a few days. Things are tight enough as it is.” He paused, ran his eyes critically over Merlin's lean frame once more and added “we’ve already had lunch. Make sure the rest of you eat something.” With that he turned away and stepped back inside the house.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on tumblr! alloverthegaf.tumblr.com


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